


My Angel Wears a G-String

by Retro Lipstickcat (Lipstickcat)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:30:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lipstickcat/pseuds/Retro%20Lipstickcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has a big mouth....</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Angel Wears a G-String

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in 2004 - I'm transferring it to this archive unedited.

It was quite possible that Crowley owned the biggest gob in the whole of creation. All it took was a little thought, but no, he had to jump right in with the dumbest statement ever. He could have easily beaten Hastur’s claims of corrupting a clergyman with something smaller, something true. There was the time he turned a whole quarter of Paris into a notorious red light district a century ago. That had turned a little surreal though; he could remember a lot of singing and dancing, and big elephant. Of course, he could blame the whole episode on the absinthe…

So that was a bad example, but still, where did he hope to go by declaring "My angel wears a g-string."?

Sure, it explained to the other demons why he could often be seen hanging out with an angel, and it implied that not only was Aziraphale corrupted enough to wear a g-string, the “my” suggested that the pretty blond was his. And he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that the idea didn’t give him wholly inappropriate shivers.

But Hastur wanted proof.

Which was why he was now standing outside Aziraphale’s bookshop, clutching a bunch of flowers that concealed a small spy camera. He knocked. A pale shape formed in the frosted glass door and loomed closer. The door opened with a tinkle of shop bells and the angel stood before him, dressed in a tight white polo neck jumper and buttery suede trousers. He smiled and Crowley bit back a quiet moan.

Of all the dumb things to say, all that he could think about now was Aziraphale almost naked. He’d known the angel since the dawn of time, had been friends with him for almost as long. When had his mind started to think of his friend like this and why hadn’t he noticed before?

Crowley bustled into the shop and shut the door firmly behind him. Aziraphale made delighted noises over the flowers and produced a vase of water to put them in. Crowley insisted on arranging them, carefully placing the vase on a desk so that the camera had a clear view.

His stomach knotted guiltily as he leaned close to whisper in Aziraphale’s ear.

“I’m sorry, just go along with it.”

Then he kissed him, hard. Aziraphale let out a weak sound of surprise that quickly melted into a moan. Crowley couldn’t believe the feel of roaming hands over his body, he could hardly comprehend that the angel was undressing for him without any need for force. He completely forgot to conjure up the suitable underwear until it was too late. But as he stepped back, his mind still muggy from the newly discovered knowledge that Aziraphale wanted him too, he got his second shock.

“….My angel wears a g-string?!?”

“I like the way they feel,” Aziraphale shrugged.

Overcome by lust, Crowley spun Aziraphale onto the desk, knocking the vase off. Suddenly, all Hastur could see was static as the camera was smashed.


End file.
